


We burn witches

by summerfires



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, First Kisses, Historically Inaccurate, Internalized Homophobia, Love at First Sight, Mutual Pining, Yearning, as all wlws do, kind of??, no beta we die like men, religious trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerfires/pseuds/summerfires
Summary: Kaede is a daughter of a merchant and a skilled pianist, quietly living in her precious little town.Miu is an inventor, who everyone thinks of as a witch.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Iruma Miu
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	We burn witches

"S'rry, mistress, I'm afraid I cannot fix thy instrument. The mechanism is a did bite too advanc'd for me," the town's repairman shrugs and bows with a sorrowful scorn. 

"Tis a shame. Thank you, sir," Kaede bows back and sighs softly. Her father has brought her a piano from the capital city last month, with a new innovative mechanism, courtesy of the best of the country's instrument makers, and it had recently had certain problems with its performance. "Do you perhaps know anyone who could help me, then?"

"Well..." he looks to his side and lowers his voice. "Alloweth's say, I do know someone who perhaps couldst belike help thee with thy instrument, but. Um. Thee shouldn't wend there."

"Oh, but why?"

"T's a woman," he says in disdain, to Kaede's irritation and pursed lips, but then his face grimaces in terror. "And a witch."

  
  


Why would a witch know how to fix her piano remains a mystery to Kaede for a while, and clouds her thoughts even as she walks through the market the next morning, absentmindedly picking out vegetables and fish for dinner. She shields her eyes from the bright late spring sun and comes up to the fish stand to get some fresh trout. Should she make some galentyne sauce with it today, for her father would be going away to the city for a while again?

Loud arguing picks up her attention.

"I say the cloth is worth its price!" the old lady selling materials several market stands down shouts, her face red out of anger.

"And I say thee shall slash thy cloth into fine ribbons and sticketh them up thy arsehole, thee stuck-up wench!" the customer, a young woman approximately of Kaede's own age, snaps back. 

To her own surprise, Kaede can't help but stiffle a giggle. It's obscene, of course, but quite the creative insult. The fishmonger squints at the squabbling pair in disapproval and shakes his head.

"That witch always comes and makes a scene. Such a both'rsome young lady," he mumbles.

"Witch?" Kaede instantly perks up and turns to him. He looks away.

"Aye, that's her... methinks. Nay one knows if 't be true the lady's actually doing witchcraft, but the lady is doing something weird at her lodging. And the lady's a fowl creature, forsooth works with the dark forces, the demons," he whispers. 

"Something weird?" she hums. So “the witch” seems to just be a name they gave her, not actually what she is or does. She seems loud and troublesome, but not evil. Maybe she really should ask the weird lady if she could help her fix her musical instrument then.

  
  


"Excuse me! G'morning! Can I ask thee something? Excuse me, wait!"

"What do you want?" the supposed witch stops in her tracks and turns to look at Kaede in annoyance, clutching her canvas bag to her chest. The pianist finally slows her steps and breathes deeply and harshly, for she's been chasing the witch from the market, but as soon as she can get a good look at the weird lady, she chokes on air once again. Her light blue eyes glare at her with such intensity, she feels ice shards stabbing her whole body, but something in her chest pains as if being set aflame. 

She's at loss of words.

"Ugh, what, pussy got thy tongue?" the lady groans. "Listen, mistress, the gorgeous girl genius Miu Iruma doesn't have all day!"

Well, Kaede's definitely not going to argue the "gorgeous" claim. Wait, what? She startles at her own thought.

"Sorry! I..." she can see the irritation growing on Iruma's face, so cuts to the point. "Miss Iruma, I crave a boon."

"What boon?" she squints and shakes her head intensely, her strawberry blond hair sticking out in all directions. Kaede enchantedly follows the way her messy locks fall on her shoulder. "You, pleb, got a lotta nerve asking me for a favour!"

Akamatsu is instantly snapped out of her awe by the unnecessary rudeness. She firms herself.

"I need help fixing my piano. I was told you could do that."

"Ask the town's repairman Whats-his-name, flat titts," Iruma grimaces like she took a bite out of lemon.

“No, I need  _ you _ to do that. It’s a very difficult mechanism.”

“Were you a goblin in your past life? Is that why you can’t understand when someone says ‘no’, leeches for brains?” Iruma hangs her bag over her shoulder and goes into a stiff and heads-up posture, putting hands on her (quite voluptuous, if Kaede can say so herself) hips, and looks the pianist up and down with barely hidden disdain. Where’d that come from? “If you and your fix-it boy can’t figure it out, then maybe don’t buy stuff that you can’t work with! Run along now, while I forgive you for your horrid manners!”

Akamatsu’s lip quivers, but she decides to suck it up and change her approach. Miu watches in confusion as the girl carefully puts her basket down on the ground and then, after a momentary contemplation, slides down on her knees, despite her nice-looking plum coloured dress landing in road dust and mud. Her icy blue eyes widen and she squeaks in surprise and stumbles back, almost tripping on her feet.

“Please, miss Iruma!” Kaede firmly plants her palms on the dirty ground and determinedly looks up into those unfairly pretty eyes for such a crude person. “I really, really need it fixed! I’m begging you!”

“W-what the hell?” everything about Iruma’s demeanor changes, growing meek and embarrassed. “Quit it!”

“No, I’ll stay like this until you agree to help me, miss!” Kaede slightly raises her voice. Miu looks around, as if scared of someone seeing them, and rushes to offer the girl her hand to get up.

“F-fine, fine! Get the hell up, thy lunatic!” the “witch” looks away, face scrunched up in extreme discomfort.

“Thank you! I owe you so much!” Akamatsu chirps joyfully, mindlessly squeezing the warm but clammy hand in hers. She doesn’t even care about her dress being ruined, for she’s gotten what she wanted.

“Yeah, yeah, of course you do...” Miu mumbles, beet read, her gaze flickering from the ground at their still interlocked hands and back down. “S-So... Can I have my hand back? This is starting to weird me out...”

“Oh! Sorry, I’m just very happy!” Kaede cups her hands together, trying to suppress her own blush creeping onto her cheeks. That  _ was _ pretty weird, huh? Not very proper behavior for their first ever conversation.

“Whatever... I’ll need to get to my house first, to get my toolkit, so...”

“Can I come with you?”

Miu makes a few indistinguishable noises, nervously hugging her arms as if to shield herself from the overzealous new acquaintance, but then sighs in defeat, unable to come up with a response.

“F-fine. I’ll give you something to clean your dress, ya gobermouch.”

  
  


Iruma’s house, located outside the city near the woods, looks like something out of the Apocalypse, as dramatic as it sounds: it looks like it’s stitched together from pieces of different houses, with more chimneys than any building needs, a small tower stuck onto the mess of a house a bit unevenly. There are weird ropes and rodes sticking out of the windows and the roof, making the house look like a weird deformed monster with antlers and nerves sticking out of it’s frankenstein body. Chills run up Kaede’s spine, remember what the fishmonger said: she works with the dark forces, the demons. Could he perhaps be right?

Where the outside of the house was dark, crudely stitched and stuffed together, imposing and monstrous, the interior was just one word: overwhelming. It reminded Kaede of the inside of her pianos: dark wood and elaborate mechanisms she can barely comprehend the works of, except Iruma’s home is even more incomprehensible and magical in it’s claustrophobic maximalism. Every inch of the walls, floor and working surfaces is covered in some sort of machinery, details and materials, or drawings of unimaginable things, only vaguely resembling things Kaede knows, like birds or carriages. So, not a witch. A mechanic?

She clutches the fabric on her sleeve, as she slowly steps inside, careful not to move or, Lord be merciful, break anything.

“Mi casa, su casa, whatever, small titter,” Miu grumbles as she unceremoniously drops her bag onto the floor right into the pile of large gears.

“Why must you insult me all the time?” Kaede pouts and crosses her hands over her chest subconsciously.

“I’m just telling the truth, sorry if you can’t handle it, oh fair mistress,” the owner of the house sticks her tongue out and marches across the living room to the more clean table and starts undoing her bodice, her back turned to the guest. “So, you gettin out of that dress to clean it or nay?”

Kaede, who was staring at long fingers undoing the intricate lacing in enchantment, is ripped out of it, and her face flushes and she looks down.

“Uh... Yes, sure.” she cautiously makes her way to stand beside the alleged witch. “Where should I undress...?”

“In this realm of existence, duh.” Miu raises an eyebrow at her. “No man’s gonna come in,  _ mistress,  _ just undress and give me your dress to clean it up. Don’t get thy undergarments in a twist.”

The pianist nods shakily and starts undressing. Mercifully, Miu isn’t even looking at her, going into a separate room to then return holding a large basin under her arm, digging into her hip, and a bottle of something in another hand, when Kaede is already only in her underdress, nervously fidgeting with the heavy dress in her hands.

“Let’s go to the bathing room, it’s second floor.” Iruma nods to the direction of the stairs and goes there first, swaying her hips in a way that got Kaede mesmerized, like a magician’s pendulum.

“Alright, princess. Fill the bowl with water and pour some of that,” she throws the bottle at the pianist and looks actually impressed when she readily catches it. “And just, uhh, fold your dress in there? It should soak for a tad while.”

Akamatsu follows her instructions, carefully watching sideways as the other girl meddles with an intimidatingly large boxy machine. Iruma freezes, as if sensing the other’s gaze on herself, and looks up, confusion and... shyness? painting her features. She instantly changes her facial expression to a smug one.

“Like what you see?”

“A-ah, excuse me?” Kaede leans forward in surprise at such a question, her crisply ironed sleeves getting wet from the water in the basin.

“The washing machine!” Iruma proudly exclaims before Kaede can apologize for staring, broadly gesturing at the block of machinery.

“The what?” Kaede’s eyes widen.

“Allow me to demonstrate, Idiotmatsu,” face red with excitement and the widest smile imaginable, Iruma grasps the dress out of the basin and puts it into the “washing machine” as she called it. “...Now we close the door and turn it on!” she pulls on the level at the side of it. The machine starts whirring and shaking, making Kaede flinch away first and think about the fate of her dress second. She looks at the weird girl with terror in her eyes, and Miu returns a maniacal grin.

As the machine, according to Miu, is thoroughly washing, drying and ironing the dress, Kaede is scouted to help her get into a corset, a different from the one worn at the market. It’s a heavy construction of metal and wires, taking all of the pianist’s strength to tighten it on the hourglass figure of her... acquaintance.

“Why do you even need to wear something like that?” she huffs, all of her upper body straining at this point.

“Back support! I always wear it when I work, or I’d look like those crooked old wenches. Also it makes my tits look great!”

“You  _ always _ do that? By yourself?!” the pianist gasps, barely swallowing the “they do look great” part. God, what’s gotten into her today? 

“Wow, you’ve like, never done any sort of physical labor, huh?” Miu laughs hoarsely, not a muscle twitching to help. She seems to be enjoying Kaede’s misery. “That’s what I dislike about you musicians, you’re so weak, noodle arms!”

“That’s rude!” Akamatsu exasperatedly pulls on the corset out of sheer irritation at the constant insults that the mechanic uses as if normal small talk. Miu chokes on air at the sudden tightening. “What do  _ you _ even do, you’re a repairman? Repairwoman...?”

“Excuse you!” Iruma turns to her, face furrowed and determined offense. “I am an inventor! Everything you see in this house - I’ve invented AND built myself!”

“Really?” Akamatsu even forgets the insult, her jaw hanging slack in awe. Her fingers absentmindedly graze over the metal construction and set on the waistline. Iruma awkwardly coughs at that, red dusting her cheeks, but still excitedly explains all the stuff she’s made in the past few years, happy to find a willing listener.

“That’s so amazing!” Kaede claps her hands and smiles fondly at the inventor. Sure, the lady is quite the thorn in the arse with her insults and crude demeanor, but once she started talking about her craft, it’s almost like some sort of an ethereal light shone from inside of her, with every word and every crinkle of her smiling eyes, that the pianist couldn’t tear her gaze from. “I don’t think I could understand any of it even in a hundred years! You truly are a genius, miss Iruma!”

“Ugh, call me Miu,” she awkwardly brushes it off, utterly embarrassed by the praise.

“Miu...” Akamatsu hums. It sounds nice spilling from her lips, a soft, fairytale kind of name. She offers her hand for a mock-handshake. “You can call me Kaede then!”

“I’ll stick to flat titts, thank you,” her smile is much kinder than her words, and she returns the handshake. Once again, the touch lingers a bit too long than appropriate.

  
  


“Oh, Kaede, where have you been! I’ve been worried mad, dear!” her mother all but falls onto her in an embrace, when they arrive to Akamatsu’s house. “You were supposed to be home from the market over an hour ago!”

“Sorry, mother, I have gone to fetch miss Iruma, she can help me with my piano,” she kisses her mum on both cheeks and turns to Iruma, who stands awkwardly behind her, clutching case with tools to her chest. Iruma silently curtsies, tense and inelegant, her hands occupied. Kaede smirks a bit, the clumsiness kind of endearing to her. 

“Oh, welcome, miss!” her mum bows slightly and let’s them into the house. “Would you like some tea?” 

“Uh... no, thanks,” Miu shakes her head. “I’m in a did bite hurry, I’d appreciate to get to work,” she says carefully so as not to sound as rude as usual. Kaede beams in appreciation.

“It’s in the piano room, I’ll lead you,” she grabs Miu’s hand (maybe she should stop that before it becomes way too much of an invasion of one’s privacy) and drags her away. Her mum shakes her head.

“You have a nice house,” Iruma says, opening the toolkit.

“Thank you! Father only bought it a year ago, after saving up money for the better portion of his life.” she plays with the hem of her dress. It’s ironed and smells really nicely of gardenias. That’s the same smell Miu has, she notes, remembering standing close to her and doing her corset. Must be the soap she soaked the dress in. “Your house is really nice too! It’s unusual, it’s true, but I’d love to live there!” Miu snickers, and Kaede corrects herself, “I-I mean, in a place like that! Not your house specifically!”

“Alright, princess.”

She sits on a stool, intensely watching as the inventor starts working on her piano, something celestial to her face, frowned in concentration. Long pale fingers dance around the mechanism, dipping between the strings, grazing over small bronze hammers. 

Kaede wonders how those fingers would feel on her skin.

Thin but defined muscles vaguely show even through the layers of her dress, as the inventor bends down to press on the pedal, while watching the inner mechanism contract and move in reaction.

Kaede swallows and tries hard to breathe despite how tight her chest feels, as she wonders, how nicely those toned arms would wrap around her. With the rapidly reddening race, she wonders, no, wants the inventor to press onto her body in all the right places and watch her reaction with those unfairly beautiful blue eyes, wants those skillful fingers to play an unknown serene melody on her arms, and chest, and body as a whole, wants those pink lips to hum off-key into her own. Wants to undo that heavy wire corset, wants to run her fingers through the wild strawberry blond hair, want to touch her hands, calloused from manual labor, touch her breasts, barely contained by the tight dress, wants, yearns...

She watches the inventor take apart and put together her piano, and wants herself to be broken and put back piece by piece by Miu Iruma, and the thought terrifies her to the core and makes her physically ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for inappropriately used old english, i find it funny lol.  
> it won't be there for serious scenes

**Author's Note:**

> a love letter to the cottagecore wlw community on tiktok  
> Also I wrote it when when I just started dating my gf so it has that firsthand y e a r n i n g
> 
> inspired by a song by a russian indie artist https://youtu.be/c6bs4RjzTlY  
> here’s a tl of this song, by yours truly https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mqPz6Ush8Y0U80Qf7zkqkgz0CSLQDu6IbszdZKZ54y4/edit


End file.
